


We'll Sing Like Birds in the Cage

by Maria_de_Salinas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Domestic Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Alternating, POV Eileen Prince, POV Severus Snape, Poverty, Young Severus Snape, mild homophobia, starts out angsty and turns kind of fluffy because that's how I roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maria_de_Salinas/pseuds/Maria_de_Salinas
Summary: When a mysterious woman visits Spinner's End, nine-year-old Severus Snape finds an unlikely friend, and Eileen discovers her inner strength.
Relationships: Eileen Prince & Minerva McGonagall, Eileen Prince & Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape
Comments: 17
Kudos: 94





	We'll Sing Like Birds in the Cage

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: There will be brief depictions of emotional/physical abuse as well as implied child abuse. Nothing too graphic but it could potentially be triggering so please take care when reading.
> 
> I’ve made an attempt at the Midlands/Black Country dialect but I’m probably butchering it so please feel free to correct me :) Where “you” is spelled “yow” it’s deliberate. 
> 
> The song lyrics come from “Memphis Blues” by American composer W.C. Handy. 
> 
> Credit to [deathdaydungeon](https://deathdaydungeon.tumblr.com/) for pointing out that Spinner’s End was actually a slum. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_Come, let’s away to prison_

_We two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage_

_-William Shakespeare,_ King Lear

Severus was sitting on the front stoop dropping bits of stale bread for the stray cats that wandered up and down the street. There was shouting from somewhere and all the windows were like eyes watching him but he liked it better here than in the back. His mother always called it the back garden but Severus didn’t know why, it didn’t look anything like a garden to him. When he pictured a garden he imagined grass and flowers and maybe a tree or two, but there was nothing out back but a patch of dirt and the tumble-down privy and some hellebore flowers his mother had growing out of a pair of old work boots she’d filled with soil. Sometimes Severus would go back there and find insects and things to shred and mix up in a jar with some water, but the smell was so bad he never stayed long.

A door slammed and Snape’s head jerked up. A shirtless man was walking out of the house across the street and taking a long pull on a fag.

“Well fuck you then,” said a woman from the doorway.

“Go fuck yourself, maybe it’ll loosen you up,” the man shot back. He turned his head towards Severus. “The fuck yow lookin at?”

Severus glared right back at him and picked up a loose rock and for just a moment something like fear crossed the man’s eyes. Then his face hardened over and the creases on his forehead deepened and threw his fag on the ground, stamping it out with his foot and walking away down the street without bothering to put on his shirt, which he had draped over his shoulder.

Severus waited until he couldn’t see him anymore before he put down the rock and watched for the cats he thought would be coming. There was skinny gray one with a leg missing he’d named Prospero that came round just about every day.

His mother loved the strays even more than he did. She took one of them in once, a lean stringy ginger she’d named Athena who used to jump right into their laps like she’d known them all her life. His mother gave her a dish of water and bits of beef suet and brushed her fur until it wasn’t matted anymore, and Severus liked to sit beside her as he read or listened to the radio.

His father had no patience for cats or any other animal. He’d grumbled about the filth and the waste of food and when he started shouting and swatting at the cat his mother had finally given in and sent her back outside, where she took to wandering the streets again. They hadn’t seen her in awhile.

Severus rested his head in one hand and tapped out a rhythm on the stone steps with a stick of wood he’d found lying in the street, until he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see a tabby cat coming up the street with business-like little steps. Its coat was sleek and soft and it wasn’t bone-thin like the other cats round Spinner’s End and he wondered what it was doing there. When the cat reached the step Severus was sitting on it sat right in down in front of him, almost as though it was introducing itself. It was a serious-looking creature. Severus thought the dark patches around its eyes looked like spectacles. He reached out and scratched it under the chin and the cat began to purr.

“Hello,” he said softly. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t you?”

He’d just picked it up when the door creaked open behind him.

“Time to come in, Severus. We need to finish up the wash.”

Severus didn’t say anything, just stroked the cat’s back and scratched behind its ears.

“Now!”

His mother’s voice was edged with anger, but that wasn’t what made him put the cat down. It the fear he could hear underneath it, the fear of what his father would say when he came home and the wash was still hanging on the lines strung over the kitchen. He wanted to come home and enjoy his tea without all those clothes hanging over his head, he said.

His father always found something to be annoyed about, often things that couldn’t be helped, like the small Sunday roast that was their only meat for the week or the things that were lying around the house because there was no place to put them. She’d do her best to please him, and there’d be peace for awhile, but then he’d always move on to something else, it seemed. Lately it was the laundry.

When the weather was nice his mother would string the wash outside over the street like the other neighbourhood women but lately gangs of children had taken to pelting rocks at them and they’d get so filthy she had to wash them again. So she hung them in the kitchen, but if she didn’t do it quickly they’d still be hanging over the table when his father got home from work.

Severus trudged into the tiny kitchen, where the sink was already filled with soapy water, and pulled a shirt off the pile. He liked the feel of the suds on his hands, at least.

“Mind you wash them long enough. Don’t leave any dirt on them,” said his mother.

Severus swished it around in the sink while counting to sixty in his head. That was usually long enough. He picked it up and squeezed the water out and his mother snatched it up and stuck it to the line with a clothespin.

“I think a bit of music might make this go faster,” she said after she’d hung up a few shirts, more to herself, it seemed.

Severus hoped she’d get the wooden wireless out of the cellar where she kept it hidden, but instead reached for the staticky old radio that was propped up on one of the shelves. A thick smoky voice rambled through the kitchen and made him think of faraway places.

His mother hummed along to the song, something about a heartbreak hotel, and Severus saw the lines on her face smooth, as though the music was knocking loose all the hundreds of tiny troubles she kept inside her and washing them away.

He wrung out a pair of trousers and handed them to his mother, who stuck it to the line strung across the kitchen, still humming, and after an hour or so had passed they had all the clothes were done. Severus didn’t ask her why she hadn’t used magic. She hardly ever did anymore, except to show him a spell or two sometimes.

“Well, that’s one job done,” said his mother. “You can go play until your father gets home. I’ve got to get tea on.”

Her voice was dulled with resignation. This had been their routine for years, nothing ever changed, and it never would. Not for her, anyway.

There was a shelf full of books in the front room, old school books and books from the thrift shop with the covers missing and even books she’d found sitting in a skip when they were out walking in a different neighbourhood, one where people could afford to buy books to throw away. He found a book on magical plants and brought it upstairs to his room to read.

He couldn’t remember learning to read, it was just something he’d always done, like walking or talking. He’d sit up in his room for hours, because his books were little worlds he could walk into whenever wanted, and he could stay in them as long as he needed to.

He didn’t know how long he’d been reading when he heard the squeak of the door downstairs and his stomach clenched. He could always gauge his father’s mood by the sound of his boots. A few quick light steps as he stamped the dirt off meant he’d be in a decent enough mood that they’d sit and talk and maybe even joke around a bit like a normal family. Sharp heavy stomps that shook the house like a tremor meant that they’d be tense, on edge, waiting for explosion. Severus cocked his head to one side like a dog and listened. Six heavy stomps. His heart pounded. He didn’t understand. His mother must’ve had all the wash put away by now.

There was a knock at his door. “Better come downstairs, Severus,” his mother said, and he knew by her voice that she was worried too.

Severus set down his book and got up. His father hated to be kept waiting.

Severus’s father was a tall man with steel grey eyes and a long thin head like a torpedo. He didn’t look much like Severus except for the hooked nose.

“Alright?” he said when he saw Severus. When he was little his father would sometimes scoop him up into a hug but he’d stopped a few years ago. Didn’t want him turning queer, he said. Severus knew that queer meant strange but he knew it must also mean something worse than that, the way his father’s mouth twisted when he said it.

Severus nodded and his father took off his cap and put it on the coat rack beside the door. “Tea ready?” he said to his wife. Sometimes he gave her a peck on the cheek when he got home, or asked how her day had been, but that was when he was in a good mood, and he wasn’t now.

His mother nodded, and they sat down at the table in the kitchen, which took up nearly the whole room. Severus looked up and saw that all the wash had been taken down and set aside, to iron the next day, though the lines were still strung across the ceiling.

His mother gave them each a dish of stew and sat down, lips tight and knuckles white as they gripped her spoon. Severus’s father ladled up some broth and let if fall back into the bowl and the sloshing of the liquid was like the rumble of distant thunder.

“Nowt but water,” he muttered.

“I’ve put a bit of beef in it, look,” she said, holding up a spoonful for him to see.

Severus noticed how his mother’s voice changed when his father was around, or when she was talking with the neighbour women, to make herself sound more like them. Severus did it too, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to talk the way his mother did when there was no one else around.

His father grunted and turned back to his bowl.

“The Moore’s invited us over to play cards tomorrow night,” said his mother, her tone unnaturally light, cheerful.

His father grunted again in reply.

“Mrs. Green was by this morning with some shoes her son’s outgrown. They fit ‘im perfectly, look.”

She glanced at Severus and he knew she wanted him to stick his feet out. He lifted a foot for his father to see, thinking his father’s face would relax when he saw them. Break into a smile, even.

His father slammed his fist down on the table so hard stew flew out of Severus’s bowl onto his shirt.

“We doe’ need their fuckin charity. Give ‘em back.”

His mother’s face fell. “But I cor do tha’, it’d be rude-”

“What’s rude was taking ‘em in the first place. Look like a bleedin charity case will you, all so you doe’ have to spend money on your own son.”

Severus knew he’d just said something horribly insulting. He looked at his mother, expecting her to get angry, to fight back, but her face was white, anxious.

“But-”

“Take ‘em back, or Arl do it meself, d’you understand?”

His mother didn’t say anything, just nodded silently, and Severus thought of his old shoes with holes in the front that made his feet stick out and what the red-headed girl at the playground would think when she saw them and he hated his parents.

When they were finished eating and his mother was gathering up the pots to put in the sink she put a hand to his father’s arm. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice soft, placating. “I day mean aught by it.”

Severus gripped his spoon and waited. If his father patted her hand and told her it was alright, really, things would be ok.

But he didn’t. He just stared into his bowl, and Severus’s stomach hurt and he couldn’t eat anymore. He pushed his bowl away and went up to his room.

He wished he knew enough magic that he could block out all the sounds from downstairs, so the only thing he could hear was his own breathing and the crackle of paper as he turned the pages in his book. But then, if he knew that much magic, he’d just make his father disappear.

He barely heard anything at first, just their voices going back and forth like some strange duet, a soft pleasant alto followed by a low bass rumble. Then the low rumble got louder until it turned into a shout and his mother was shouting back and Severus stuck his fingers in his ears and thought of a song his mother taught him once.

_Folks I've just been down, down to Memphis town,  
_

_That's where the people smile, smile on you all the while._

After awhile he took his fingers out of his ears but he wished he hadn’t. His mother was pleading now.

Severus was shaking but he couldn’t sit there anymore. It was always like that, whenever he saw an animal or a person in trouble. He couldn’t just sit there and let it happen. He threw his book down and ran down the stairs. His father had his hands on his mother’s face and he was shouting at her.

“Leave her alone!”

His mother’s eyes rested on him, wide and scared and she mouthed the words, “no.”

“Get out of it, Severus!” his father snapped.

“No. You stop or I’ll-I’ll...I’ll use my magic!”

His father jerked his hands away from his mother’s face and strode towards him like an oncoming train.

“What did you say?”

Severus’s body was so stiff he couldn’t move.

“I’ve told you never to use tha’ word in this house boy!”

His mother put a hand to his arm to stop him. “It’s my fault, don’t hurt him, please-”

But his father pushed her away, and she didn’t fight back, didn’t even try.

Severus closed his eyes and waited for what was coming. He wouldn’t cry. He never let his father see him cry.

When it was all over he sat on the front steps with his head propped in his hands, face screwed up tight so nothing would come out. He could’ve sat up in his room but he didn’t want to be in the house anymore.

The summer twilight was long and there was still a streak of red in the western sky, far above the chimneys and the terrace houses. Severus thought about what it would be like to fly.

He thought he caught a glimpse of the tabby cat and sat up straighter, but when he looked again it had gone. He slumped back down.

“Go and play up your own end!” called a woman as a group of laughing children ran past. Sometimes Severus played with them but he was too clumsy and uncoordinated to be much good at their games. What he really wanted was someone he could talk to, about books and magic and things. But no one talked about those sorts of things in Spinner’s End.

There was a clack of footsteps on the cobbled street and he looked up to see a dark-haired woman in a green dress walking towards him. Despite the heat of the day that still lingered over the stones she had a tartan shawl draped over her shoulders. Severus thought she was watching him and stiffened.

“Evening,” said the woman. Severus just looked at her and didn’t say anything.

She glanced down at his arms, which were covered in red marks.

“Are you alright?” she said.

“Who are you?” said Severus, narrowing his eyes at her. Her voice was kind but it only made him more suspicious. Every once and awhile some busybody would come down Spinner’s End and try to fix things up, and no one liked it.

The woman didn’t say anything to this, just reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bottle. “Here,” she said, twisting the cap off. “I’ve got something for that.”

She reached for Severus’s arm but he yanked it away. “I don’t need anything!”

He thought the woman might grab his arm, insist on helping him, but she didn’t.

“Do you mind if I sit down, Severus?”

Severus was so taken aback he didn’t know what to say, and maybe the woman took his silence for agreement, because she sat down next to him, smoothing out her dress as she did.

“How did you know my name?” said Severus, too curious to be angry anymore.

The woman looked at him a long time, as though unsure whether to answer. “I knew your mother,” she said finally.

She had a funny accent and Severus wondered where she was from. And then he realized something .

“Are you magic?”

“Hold out your arms,” said the woman. Severus wondered if she’d heard him.

He held out his arms, and a trickle of warm liquid hit them as she tipped the bottle onto his skin. There was a puff of smoke and the welts healed instantly.

He stared at his arms a moment, then up at the woman. “You are magic, then.”

The woman put the cap back on the bottle and twisted it shut. “Does it feel better?”

Severus nodded.

“Good.” She put the bottle back into her pocket and looked up the street.

“Do you play with the other children much?”

Severus glanced down. “Not much.”

“You feel different from them, I suppose?”

Severus nodded.

“I quite understand,” she said. She gave him a long serious sort of look. “But things won’t always be that way.”

Before Severus had a chance to ask what she meant, she stood up and dusted off her dress. “Take care, Severus.”

Severus opened his mouth to ask what her name was, but before anything came out she’d walked away.

The sky was turning deep blue and the lights were coming on, so when the woman disappeared round a corner he turned and went into the house.

His father was sitting on ratty old chair in the front room, listening to the radio as though nothing had happened. Severus walked past without looking at him.

“Turning in then?” he said when Snape reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes sir,” he said stiffly.

“’Night.”

Severus couldn’t stand to say it, but more than anything he wanted to keep the peace. “’Night Da’,” he muttered, and trudged upstairs to his room.

***

Eileen struck a match and raised it to the tip of her fag, inhaling deeply as she shook the flame from the match. She lay back on the bed, blowing smoke towards the ceiling, watching it hover in the air like one of the Hogwarts ghosts.

The thin piece of paper between her fingers only took away the outermost edge of her pain. Every time she closed her eyes she saw her baby’s face, taut and strained from holding in his cries. She smelt Tobias’s hot angry breath, heard the snap of the belt she’d done nothing to stop, told herself over and over that it would’ve just been worse for him if she’d interfered, that everyone in Spinner’s End whipped their kids, but it didn’t help any.

She should’ve seen it coming, she didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it coming. She knew the signs. His silences, his long sighs, complaints about little things. That’s when she needed to keep her guard up, watch what she said, because the wrong words in the wrong tone of voice could set him off. Maybe if she’d taken the lines down from the kitchen. Maybe if she hadn’t snapped and shouted at him. If she’d just _listen_ , like he always told her, if she just knew the right things to say.

He wasn’t always like that. Sometimes he’d come in smiling, give her a kiss and ruffle Severus’s hair. He’d helped his mother through her illness and given the neighbours some of their food when they didn’t have enough. Told her he was sorry for losing his temper with her.

She’d known him since she was seventeen. She used to sneak out of the house with a handful of Muggle money and go to the Muggle shops or the cinema, her own private little _fuck you_ to her parents and their suffocating expectations, but one night they’d caught sneaking back into the house wearing a Muggle dress and they’d kicked her out for three days as a punishment. Somehow she’d ended up stranded in Cokeworth, in a little nightclub that was really just a dark room in a warehouse cellar, with no money and no place to go. She’d thought of lying low at the train station until it got light out and Apparating back to her parent’s house and begging them to take her back, but Tobias had felt sorry for her and offered her a place at the house he shared with his friends. There were five of them in one room sleeping on pallets but he’d given her his own pillow and insisted she sleep on the threadbare sofa.

What struck her most was his openness, the way he said whatever was on his mind and did whatever struck his fancy, so different from the way she’d grown up. Her family was like some dour masquerade where everyone spoke in riddles and never showed themselves. Never show your real feelings, always put on a show, that was the life of a Prince. God forbid anyone should see who they really were.

She’d married a few years after they met. Her grandmother had died by then and there was nothing else keeping her in the wizarding world, not even Minerva, who was all wrapped up in her Ministry job and hardly spoke to her any more, or Abraxas, who’d gone off the rails with his pureblood fixation.

Tobias was worn out from working the mills and she had trouble finding work and there was never enough money, but those first few years were happy enough and he was good to her and Severus. But he’d lost a few jobs since then and things had changed, slowly and gradually like a slow leak you don’t notice at first until your walls are damaged beyond repair.

As she took another pull on her fag and blew the smoke towards the ceiling she heard the creak of the wooden staircase and knew by the small shuffling steps that it was Severus. She took a few more drags and snuffed the fag in the ashtray beside the bed before getting up and going to his room.

Severus was sitting on his bed, knees pulled up to his chest. Eileen sat down beside him, keeping her hands at her sides, stomach tight and muscles tense, because what could she say to him that would make up for what happened?

Severus stared straight ahead and for awhile neither of them spoke.

“Reading about magical plants I see?” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say, and maybe they could just pretend things were normal, and they were just an ordinary mother and son bonding over their love of books.

“Yeah,” said Severus.

“I think you’ll enjoy Herbology when you get to Hogwarts. I always did.”

Severus didn’t say anything.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, sing the old songs her grandmother taught her. She was from America and had gone to Ilvermorny and made friends with Muggles, and her songs always took her to far-off, dreamlike places.

“Well,” she said, keeping her voice light, casual, because she knew he just wanted to pretend like everything was normal, “don’t stay up too late reading.” She kissed the top of his head and smoothed out the blanket he slept under. “Goodnight Severus.”

She went to her room and got under the covers, burying her face in the pillow and wondering how she’d ever find the strength to get up in the morning.

***

Severus didn’t know what time it was when he woke up, just that the light from his east-facing window had a bright, late-morning look. He pushed the covers off himself and sat up, bouncing a little on the rusty bedsprings.

He walked downstairs but there was no smell of eggs frying, no sound of pots and pans banging on the stovetop. His knew his mother was having a lie-in. He pulled open the cupboard, which was nearly empty, and poured some dry porridge into a bowl and got a kettle going for water.

He thought he’d spend the day at the playground, maybe introduce himself to the red-headed girl, the one who could make flowers bloom and fly off the swings like a blackbird, but he couldn’t show now, with half his feet sticking out of his shoes. His mother’s old blouse was bad enough. He’d taken to covering it up with an old coat of his father’s but he supposed it didn’t really help any.

The sun was so bright it bleached the sky white and he didn’t want to stay in the house, so he sat out on the front step again, looking out into the street.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there when he heard the clacking of light footsteps against the cobbled street and he looked up to see the dark-haired woman, wearing a blue dress this time. Severus watched her without saying anything.

“Mind if I sit here?” said the woman. Severus nodded and she sat down on the step, her hands at her sides, sitting rather stiffly, as though she wasn’t sure she should be there.

“Feeling better?” she said.

Severus nodded, because he didn’t really feel like talking about it and didn’t want her to ask him anything. They sat in silence awhile, watching some children play in the street.

“How is your mother?” she said.

“She’s fine,” said Severus, not bothering to hide his scowl.

“Something wrong?”

Severus glanced at her, then poked at a hole in his trousers, running his fingers along the frayed threads. He wasn’t about to tell her anything about as parents, angry as he was at them. The woman looked at him a long time and didn’t seem to know what to say. She glanced down at the edge of the stairs, where his mother had some flowers growing out of an old work boot.

The woman bent over and touched the petals with her fingers. “Hellebore, I believe?”

“Yeah.”

“They have magical properties, you know. Does your mother use them?”

Severus had seen his mother crushing up the flowers, but he hadn’t known they were magic. “Yeah, sometimes. She makes a syrup out of them.”

“Yes, she would, it’s used in potion-making.” She smiled a little at Severus’s expression and ran her hands along the petals. “You know, they’re really quite remarkable, these flowers. They’re the most resilient plants you’ll ever find. Put them in the poorest, driest soil, and they’ll still survive and grow.”

She sat up and looked at him. “Rather like you, Severus. And your mother.” She put a hand to his arm. “This won’t last forever, you know.”

Severus just looked back at her and didn’t know what to say.

After awhile the woman stood up. “Well, I suppose I should be going,” she said. She started to walk away, then turned around. “I almost forgot,” she said. She glanced around and, seeing no one watching, pulled a long thin piece of wood out of her pocket. A magic wand.

She pointed it at his shoes and gave it a quick flick. “ _Reparo._ ” The holes in his shoes mended themselves instantly.

“Thank you,” said Severus quietly.

The woman nodded, and with the faintest trace of a smile on her lips, turned and walked away.

Severus reached down and touched the tops of his newly mended shoes as though to prove they were real. When he felt the leather beneath his fingertips he smiled a little to himself and stood up.

The playground wasn’t in his neighborhood but he knew the way so well he didn’t have to think about it. He walked until the soot-stained bricks gave way to sky and water and trees, until he crossed the river and heard her voice calling out to her sister and her friends.

She was kicking her legs out in front of her as she pulled back on the metal chain of the swings, going higher and higher until Severus thought she might go right right over the top pole. He crouched behind a bush and watched her, dreaming that they could make themselves fly and they’d fly high up above the smokestacks like Peter Pan and his lost boys.

And then she let go and soared from the swing with her arms outstretched like a bird coming in to land and he forgot about everything else as he watched her soar through the air, the sunlight catching on her dark red hair like a halo. She landed lightly on her feet and the children watching her all crowded around, asking how she’d done it, until he couldn’t see her anymore.

He couldn’t really go up to her with all those other kids around. But he would. Someday he would, and he’d tell her what she really was, and she’d be his friend.

When the other children weren’t looking he stood up and walked out of the playground.

***

Eileen didn’t want to wake up. She’d been dreaming she was somewhere in Scotland, soaring above the lochs, the sun sparkling on the blue-grey water. Why the fuck couldn’t she just stay there?

She curled up against her pillow and stared at the wall. The thought of getting up and going downstairs where the light was bright was overwhelming. She wanted to stay there in the dark bedroom and sleep for the rest of her life.

But Severus. Severus needed her.

She closed her eyes and took a breath and it was Severus she thought of as she wrenched herself out of bed, every movement a hard-won victory against the heaviness in her head.

She lit a fag and took a few deep breaths to fortify herself and when she’d snuffed it out threw her house dress over her head. She’d need to fix Severus some lunch, then finish ironing the laundry. But the sight of the overflowing basket in the kitchen was so overwhelming she just slumped down in a chair and stared at it.

The front door banged open and Severus walked inside and took off his shoes. Eileen walked into the front room and didn’t believe what she was seeing at first. She’d hidden the shoes she’d gotten from Mrs. Green under a box in the cellar so Tobias wouldn’t see them, and she didn’t see how Severus could’ve found them.

“Where did you find those shoes?” she said.

Severus glanced down his feet. “I always wear these. Some woman fixed them for me.”

Eileen clutched the chair in front of her. “Did she say who she was?”

“No. But she said she knew you.”

Eileen’s stomach fluttered. For years she’d clung to the hope that someone was watching her, looking out for her, but but she’d long since given it up. Hope never made a difference to anyone in Spinner’s End. “Well,” she said. “That was nice of her. I hoped you thanked her.”

“Yeah. I did.”

She was overwhelmed with the urge to draw the curtains shut and lie down, but she knew Severus would be hungry. She pulled a can of tomato soup off the shelf and heated it up, giving him the last of the bread to go with it.

“This woman,” she said to Severus as they ate. “What did she look like?”

Severus traced his mouth with his finger the way he did when he was thinking. “She had dark hair,” he said. “And she was wearing a blue dress.”

“Was she wearing glasses?”

“Yeah.”

It sounded so much like Minerva. But she pushed the thought aside. It didn’t make any sense, and anyway, Eileen didn’t see why Minerva would trouble herself about them. No one did.

“Well,” she said, rinsing her bowl in the sink, “I suppose I should get the ironing done. You can go play if you like.”

Severus put his bowl in the sink and went upstairs to his room, to read, she knew. Sometimes she’d stand at the door and watch him, forehead creased in concentration, lips silently mouthing the words. She knew he was someplace far away where nothing hurt him.

Beads of sweat ran down the front of her dress as she heated up the iron on the coal stove but she liked the heat better than the cold of winter, when the windows froze over and her stomach was tight from shivering. She didn’t know how she kept standing, how she lifted that heavy iron over and over again until the pile in the basket had dwindled to a few shirts and trousers. She cracked open the window and rested her head against the frame as the breeze cooled her sweaty face and that’s when she heard the birdsong.

She didn’t know how a songbird could’ve ended up in Spinner’s End, with no trees and so little grass, but somehow it had. Somehow in the midst of all that mortar and stone it was singing it’s heart out, and every note was a supernova burning away the soot-grey walls and the rubbish-strewn dirt and the shit-smelling privies until there was nothing left, nothing but those pure clear notes floating through the air. This wasn’t some coincidence, some fluke. It was singing that song for her. Eileen closed her eyes and her body was light and free.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, maybe it was hours, maybe it was minutes, until eventually the bird gave a warble and flew away. She finished up the ironing and rummaged in the cupboards for something to cook, still heavy and slow but not so much as before. There wasn’t any meat left so she fried up some vegetables and boiled a few eggs to go with them.

She’d just set the plates on the table when the front door creaked open and she forgot to breathe, she was listening so hard. Six sharp heavy stomps. _Fuck._

She stood in the doorway as he took his hat off. “Tea’s ready,” she said, her voice flat, expressionless, because if he had any idea the kind of hell she went through, maybe he’d stop.

Tobias didn’t say anything, just walked into the kitchen and sat down. Eileen called up the stairs and Severus came down, dragging his feet, not wanting to leave his books, she knew.

They had a strange sort of meal, skirting around all the unspoken things hanging in the air. When they were finished she gathered up the pots and put them in the sink to wash and Tobias went to the front room to pour himself a drink and listen to the radio. Eileen caught snatches of it from the kitchen. Two American astronauts were headed towards the moon in their lunar module. She looked up at the sky and imagined what it would be like to go with them. It always seemed like such a peaceful place.

Severus was standing at the doorway, eyes bright, alert, listening to every word, and Eileen knew he was even more fascinated than she was. He walked over to the window and looked up at the tiny bit of sky showing between the houses across the way.

“How d’you suppose they do it?” he whispered.

“Don’t know,” said Eileen. “I suppose you could try to find a book on it.”

“Yeah,” said Severus softly. He turned to look out the window again.

The chair squeaked as Tobias stood up, on his way to the privy perhaps, or to get himself another drink.

“Wha’re these?” he said.

Eileen stiffened. He’d seen the shoes.

“Those are his old shoes,” she said as she walked into the room.

“Like hell they are. These look like new.”

Eileen thought fast. “Oh, those,” she said, as though not noticing them before. “I got ‘im new shoes.”

Tobias’s face flushed and it was a sticky moment, because he must’ve known perfectly well this was bollocks, but admitting it would mean admitting they didn’t have the money for new shoes.

“You wouldn’ta spent money on ‘im anyway. All yow ever think about is yourself, can’t even be arsed to get up in the morning.”

The words came to her without conscious thought, a gut reaction. _All because of you, you stupid prick._ But she pushed them away, because she knew he was right. How many times had Severus had to get breakfast himself, because of her?

“I found them,” she said quickly. “While we were out walking.”

“Stop lying to me!” Tobias’s voice was hard, sharp, and Eileen’s body tensed, because she knew what was coming if she didn’t do something to stop it.

“I’m sorry. I’ll get rid of ‘em.”

Tobias strode over towards her and siezed her arm. “You lying little-”

“Stop it!”

Severus’s face was red and he was glaring at his father, his expression fearless, and Eileen caught a glimpse of the man he’d someday be.

Tobias let go and rounded on him.

She tried to reassure herself like she always did. _It’ll all be over soon. Don’t make it worse. Everyone does it._

Her baby’s eyes widened in fear. She heard a clink of metal.

_Don’t make it worse._

She took a breath and closed her eyes and for what reason she didn’t know she heard snatches of the birdsong in her head and it burned though her like fire.

_You stupid prick._

She reached into the pocket of her dress until her fingertips found the thin piece of wood. Ebony and dragon heartstring. Ten and three quarter inches, springy.

“ _STUPEFY!_ ”

There was a flash of red light and Tobias slumped to the floor, arms and legs splayed out at odd angles. Severus looked from her to his father and back again as though he wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

Eileen had a second’s satisfaction as she watched him lie on the floor until the realization spread through her like she’d been plunged into icy water. He was going to wake up and she couldn’t remember how to do a memory charm. There was going to be hell to pay.

She watched him, breathing hard, paralyzed, thoughts too rapid to piece together.

She jumped when she heard the knock at the door. Oh God, the police were going to find her standing over her husband’s unconscious body and she’d be thrown into a dark cell.

She heard another knock, louder and more insistent, followed by a voice. “Is everything all right in there?”

Eileen whipped around and faced the door. Minerva? But it couldn’t be.

“Mum,” said Severus quietly. “I think it’s the woman.”

Eileen willed herself to move. “I think you’re right,” she said without thinking. Stomach so tight her back hurt she peeked through the curtains and sucked in her breath. Minerva McGonagall was standing outside on her stoop.

She pulled open the door and stared at her.

“Are you alright Eileen? You look like you’ve seen a dead body.”

Eileen gestured wordlessly towards Tobias, who was still spread-eagled on the floor.

Minerva’s sharp eyes looked from Tobias to Severus to Eileen’s hand, still clutching the wand, and she seemed to understand. “Stunned?” she said.

Eileen nodded.

McGonagall’s face contorted in disgust as she looked down at Tobias. “Well,” she said. “I suppose we’d better modify his memory.”

She knelt down and pointed her wand at his head, frowning in concentration. “ _Obliviate_.” Tobias’s eyes fluttered open and went slack and closed again.

“There,” said Minerva, standing up and not bothering to re-awaken him. “He won’t remember any of this.”

Eileen just stared over at Minerva, head filled with a thousand things, not knowing how to say any of them to her. Before she knew what was happening Minerva strode across the room and wrapped her arms around her.

“Thank you,” whispered Eileen into her shoulder.

“Of course.”

Eileen wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dress as they pulled apart. “How did you know?”

Minerva tapped her wand to herself and squinted her eyes in concentration and as smoothly as a film reel she transformed into a grey tabby cat with spectacle markings around the eyes.

“It was you,” said Severus, looking awe-struck. “You’re the cat that keeps hanging round here.”

The cat blinked and transformed into a woman again and gave him a solemn nod.

“Thank you for his shoes, Minerva,” said Eileen.

Minerva nodded, but Severus scowled. “It’s not as though Da’ will let me wear them though, is it?”

Eileen glanced at Minerva, who appeared to be thinking. “Here,” she said, pulling out her wand again. She knelt in front of Tobias and muttered something under her breath.

“Confunded,” she said with a wry smile as she stood up. “He thinks the shoes are yours.”

Severus’s mouth curled into a little smile.

Minerva walked over to Eileen, and her expression was grave, eyes searching. “Do you need anything? Anything at all? I’m sure a place could be found for you in Hogsmeade.”

Eileen glanced at Severus, who’s eyes were alight with hope, and back at Minerva, who looked earnest, serious. She thought of lakes and mountains and trees and doing magic everyday. And yet this was the only life she knew now, and she wasn’t ready to leave it. Not yet.

“I think we’ll be alright now,” she said.

“Well, in any case, I’d say a visit is long overdue, wouldn’t you?”

Eileen couldn’t help but smile a little at this. “We’d love to.”

Minerva nodded and pulled her into another warm hug. When they pulled apart she knelt down towards Severus. “I have something for you,” she said. She pulled a small potted plant with pink seedpods bursting out amongst bright blue flowers and it hit her eyes like she was looking into a sunlit garden after sitting in the dark all day.

“It’s a Puffapod. I got this from my friend Pomona. She’ll be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.” She handed the plant to Severus. “Now, strictly speaking, you’re not to do magic outside of school, but I hardly think caring for a magical plant qualifies. And if they give you any trouble, just tell them they’ll have me to deal with.”

She stood up, smiling just a little at the expression on Severus’s face.

“Well,” she said. “I suppose I’d better be going. Do take care of yourselves.”

Eileen nodded. “We will. Thank you.”

Minerva had just turned to leave when Eileen thought of something. “Can you teach me those spells?”

A look of understanding came across Minerva’s face. “Of course.”

Not for nothing had the two of them been the best students in their year, but Eileen’s magic was weak from lack of use, and it took her awhile. Every so often she’d glance at Tobias, but he barely stirred, and after awhile she finally managed it.

“Well,” said Eileen when Minerva had left, “I suppose we should find a place for your plant.”

Severus’s smile vanished. “But what if Da’ finds it?”

Eileen knelt down in front of him. “Your Da’ won’t hurt you ever again, do you understand?”

Severus looked at her a long time, such a sharp, scrutinizing look for a nine-year-old child. Then, finally, he nodded.

“Would you like to put it in your room?”

“Yes,” said Severus, and Eileen followed him up the stairs.

The paper on his walls was faded and peeling, the carpet threadbare over splintered wood, but the plant seemed to glow with its own light, transforming everything around it, absurdly, defiantly bright. Severus set it on the floor beside his bed, the only piece of furniture in the room.

He sat on his bed to look at it, and Eileen sat down beside him. And without even thinking she put her arms around him, pulling him close. Severus stiffened but he didn’t pull away, and she rocked back and forth, just as though he were a baby, and snatches of that old song her grandmother used to sing came back to her.

 _Folks I've just been down, down to Memphis town,_ _  
_

_That's where the people smile, smile on you all the while._

And she opened her mouth and began to sing. And she sang until it swelled up in her chest, sang until the soot-stained water soaked walls disappeared, she sang until some high-pitched squeak came from Severus’s throat and his wet eyes soaked the front of her blouse.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” she murmured, because she knew it would be. And she knew somehow that he did too.

***

Severus and Lily were sitting on the riverbank, watching the sunlight sparkle on the water and listening to the wind in the trees. Severus flopped back in the grass and smiled.

“Severus?” said Lily after awhile.

“Yeah?”

“Can you show me something magic?”

Severus had known, somehow, that she’d ask. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the Puffapod. Lily gasped in delight when she saw it.

“It’s brilliant,” she breathed, running her hands along the blue flowers. “Where’d you get this?”

“A friend of my mum gave it to me,” said Severus.

“Is she magic?”

“She’s a teacher at Hogwarts.”

Lily looked up from the plant and her face broke into a smile. “So she’ll be our teacher then?”

“Yeah,” said Severus. “She will.”

Lily grinned and handed him back the plant. “I can’t wait.”

Severus smiled back at her. “Neither can I.”

Lily pressed her hand over his, and they stared out over the water. Somewhere along the riverbank a bird sang and Severus thought inexplicably of his mother.

  
  



End file.
